


baby, we did this

by vlieger



Category: Bandom, Empires
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:43:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vlieger/pseuds/vlieger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean finds Tom in the alley behind the venue after they finish their set.</p>
            </blockquote>





	baby, we did this

Sean finds Tom in the alley behind the venue after they finish their set.

"Gimme a light," he says, pulling a squashed-up pack of smokes from his pocket. He has his own lighter, but Tom keeps his in the gap forged out by his hipbone between his skin and the waistband of his jeans, and Sean likes the blood-warm feel of it in his hands.

He lights up, and tucks the lighter back into Tom's pants himself, riding some weird leftover mix of adrenaline and horniness from the show. Tom slants him a knowing glance.

"You wanna fuck?" he says, and Sean fumbles the cigarette between his fingers.

"Sure," he says, recovering and shrugging.

It doesn't feel anywhere near as nonchalant, but they're still at the venue, and he likes to keep up some semblance of cool. Dorkiness is for around the apartment, or band practice, shit like that, and he doesn't even have to worry about being fake or anything because Tom knows him, knows he's just fronting. It should be scary, he muses, but it isn't. It's just Tom.

They haven't talked about this, the way they'll usually end up in a dirty tangle of sweaty limbs after shows, the way sometimes at their place Tom will just crawl into Sean's bed instead of his own, and they'll fuck before they go to sleep, and again in the morning.

It's been easy enough that they don't have to. Sean kind of thinks they might be dating, in this way where they don't have to bother going on actual dates because of how they're already best friends, but he hasn't managed to screw up the courage to ask, and well.

It's been going pretty smoothly so far, and he doesn't want to upset the balance or anything.

Tom takes a final drag of his cigarette and says, "Come on, I'll blow you."

Sean's only halfway through his smoke. He takes another drag and palms idly at his dick, already half-hard from the show, and getting harder from hearing Tom talk like that.

Tom licks his lips. "Come on," he says again.

"Yeah," says Sean, dragging in deep one final time and throwing the smoke onto the ground.

Tom blows him in the shitty motel room they're sharing just off the Santa Ana.

They make out for a bit in the van first; the other guys are still at the venue and there's something kind of gritty and sweaty and awesome about this that reminds Sean exactly where they are and what they're doing. Tom climbs over the gearstick to straddle him, and Sean likes the way his hair falls forward over his ears and tickles his cheeks, likes the scrape of Tom's stubble against his, the way he can clutch tightly at Tom's hips and pull him down.

Tom grinds into his lap and licks sweet into his mouth, a little too much tongue, perfect.

Sean stays pretty quiet, because he knows Tom likes to coax the noises out of him. Eventually he'll always crack and make some broken, desperate noise into his mouth, but until then the slick sound of their kissing is so loud inside the quiet van, in the quiet parking lot.

"Sean," says Tom, biting down on his bottom lip. "Come on, man, give it up."

Sean smiles and says, "What?"

Tom groans and presses down _hard_ with his hips. Sean lets his head fall back and moans.

"Fuck yeah," says Tom. "Inside, c'mon. Wanna blow you."

"Yeah," says Sean, blinking slowly as Tom pushes the door open and scrambles out.

Tom's mouth is a warm, soft counterpoint to the hard door against Sean's back.

They don't always make it to the bed; less so when they're on the road.

It's another one of those things that feels kind of _right_ though, like they're just going with everything, falling in with their surroundings. Cheap motel rooms and fast, dirty sex.

It _is_ fast, too. Tom forgoes the technique Sean knows he has and just fucking _goes_ for it, sucking him off sloppy and messy, curling his tongue and slipping in the odd scrape of teeth that makes Sean let out cracked groans and tighten his hands in Tom's hair.

It's no less awesome than when he pulls out all the precise moves, either. Sean loves the realness of it, the desperate intensity he can feel in the slide of Tom's mouth, the way his hand jerking off the base of Sean's dick is kind of erratic and out of time because of how he's rubbing his own dick through his jeans, knees spread apart on the carpet at Sean's feet.

He comes pressing deep into Tom's throat, hands tugging helplessly on his hair, and Tom moans and chokes and swallows all at once, pulling off and breathing hard.

It takes Sean a moment or so to gather himself, and then he pushes Tom back onto the carpet and gets his shirt rucked up under his arms, his jeans around his knees, and slicks up his hand with his tongue to jerk him off. He sort of loves this, Tom writhing under him, eyes crazy and hair a sweaty tangle over his forehead, the head of his dick pushing flushed and leaking through the top of Sean's curled fingers. He's slick and hot and petal-soft, and it doesn't take him long to come, like he's been hanging over the edge this whole time, groaning shamelessly and rutting up into Sean's hand as he shoots all over Sean's fingers and his own belly.

"Fuck me," he says, going limp as Sean sighs to the floor next to him.

"Later," says Sean, wiping his hand on Tom's t-shirt.

"Hey," says Tom half-heartedly. Sean just shrugs.

He says, "Sorry," after a moment though, and, "Shit, sorry," again when he rolls onto his side and thumbs at an angry, red carpet-burn on the back of Tom's left hip.

"'S cool," says Tom, blinking slowly. "You can buy me coffee in the morning."

Sean snorts. And then thinks _fuck it,_ and says, "Like a date?"

Tom turns his head to look at him. His hair's still damp, curled at the corners of his eyes; Sean reaches out without thinking to push it away. "Uh," says Tom. "What did you think we were doing this whole time?"

Sean bites down on his lip, then shrugs carefully and says, "Fucking?"

"Dude," says Tom. "You're my best friend. I kinda like you. I don't think we can just fuck and not-- whatever."

"Okay," says Sean, biting back a smile. "That's cool. Just checking, I guess."

"God," says Tom, rolling his eyes. "You fucking dumbass."

"What!" says Sean. "Best friends fuck around all the time, I'm pretty sure it's more normal than best friends actually dating, moron."

"Yeah, well." Tom shrugs and looks away. "I think they're kidding themselves, honestly. We're not fucking around. I mean. Uh-- are we?"

"No," says Sean. "Not-- I don't want that."

"Yeah, okay," says Tom quietly.

They're silent for a moment, and then Tom rolls over, jerky and abrupt, to duck in and kiss Sean, careful and slow, nothing like the sex they just had. Sean makes a noise into his mouth, not even trying to hold it in this time, and reaches up to curl his hands over the sides of Tom's face. It's kind of ridiculously unromantic, Tom's pants still around his ankles, dirty with come all over his bare skin, and Sean's no better, plus his neck is crooked at an uncomfortable angle to meet Tom's mouth, but he doesn't fucking care, it's kind of awesome, and they should definitely do this more often. 

Or like, all the time, he'd be cool with that too.


End file.
